I've worked diligently at this mom-n-pop coffee shop and bakery since late July (over 9 months!), working nearly-full-time hours as a bar back. The work was menial and the pay was very meager - not quite so low as the minimum wage in New York, but also nowhere near a living wage for NYC - but I enjoyed serving my neighbors and co-workers, with joy, patience, and diligence. Plus I got to enjoy gourmet pastries, cakes and cookies all day.

But over the past few months, I've run into a couple bumps in the road.

The first was the realization of just how little my wages were. Upon completing a budget, I saw that I was $300 in the red each month. And you know my expenses were already as low as I could make them, what with my freegan groceries and all. So if I was to make ends meet while staying at Darling, I would need to increase my income - either a raise of $2 per hour or an additional part-time job with a higher hourly wage.

When I told the bosses that I was not making ends meet and asked for a raise, they simply said they could not afford to pay me more. They told me that several other employees had asked for raises and were all denied. The owner-managers of Darling were also struggling to make ends meet and there was no margin to increase wages for anyone. I told them that I would continue working, but would also have to look for other jobs, that they should expect reference calls.

In the following weeks, I sought other job opportunities - responding to gigs on craigslist, leaving my resume in many different retail shops, posting up fliers for music lessons, etc. Nothing panned out.

Meanwhile, my bosses' expectations of me became increasingly stringent. They wanted me to work harder, faster, smarter; but despite my increased effort and efficiency, it seemed that I was unable to please them. They were consistently disappointed and I was increasingly frustrated, exhausted, and painfully aware of my financial reality.

The last straw fell when I was asked to cut my hours nearly in half. I knew that there was no way I could make that work; and still before the new schedule was put into effect, I went to see a co-worker play with his band in Brooklyn. I was sulking on the walk home, overcome with nostalgia and depression, and Meeko finally put her foot down. "Just quit already."

She easily persuaded me as we talked all the way home.

The next day, I was approached by one of the managers, "Gio, I just want to let you know that the new schedule will go into effect on Monday."

"Ok, then I need to put in my two week's notice."

Now that those two weeks are up, I have some ideas about how I'm going to balance my budget moving forward. I've drawn up a new schedule that includes ten hours of busking and five hours of lessons each week. Supposing realistic earnings for each, I will be able to cover all of my expenses and still have plenty of time in the week to devote to both writing and GioSafari. In order to start saving, I'll be producing more music and merch for GioSafari and looking for odd jobs on craigslist.

Despite the relative unreliability of my new (old?) income sources, I'm feeling very optimistic about my current financial outlook - for the first time in a long time. Because even though my budget has been deep in the red for several months now, I have managed to save enough money - between the generosity of my friends and a hefty tax refund - to dig myself out of credit debt. Today I finally paid the full balance on the last of my credit cards, a debt that has floated over my head since I first moved to the city nearly four years ago.

My earnings from Darling played no small part in this landmark change; and back in November, I was also able to lease my apartment in Inwood with the help of my bosses. So I'm grateful for all that has resulted from my time at Darling - though still more valuable than the weekly paychecks, I'm most grateful for the many relationships and the sense of community that I've developed there. I've met and served so many neighbors, made many great new friends, and even met my ultra-cool girlfriend Meeko.

Indeed, things are looking up. And now that I've blocked out a good amount of time for writing each week, I promise you'll be hearing a lot more from me! Stay tuned in the next week or so for more of my thoughts on leaving Darling - the nitty-gritty about why I've left (Capitalism, eat my shorts!) and what the implications are for my life and community in the present and near future.

As you may have seen from the dozens of tweets I posted yesterday and today, I've got new original music available for download. It's an EP called "Protest Songs (Are Dead)", a cross-section of my oeuvre for the past 1.5 years (now also on iTunes!)

The album would likely be regarded "protest music" by most people, since it touches on a number of contemporary hot-button issues such as homelessness, immigration, consumerism, exploitation, war, violence, poverty. But it should be noted that the songs don't protest anything. They're not about issues or politics. There really is no social comment (excepting Protest Song and Pax Americana, but what we find there is still not quite protestant in nature). Instead, the songs on this album tell stories about people - a homeless man, an immigrant, sweatshop workers, civilian casualties.

I wonder if he knows..

As a songwriter I consider this my primary aim, to tell stories: fiction, non-, and perhaps mostly the space in-between. The songs on this album tell such stories - mostly tragic - of the poor, oppressed, and marginalized, the people and stories that are all-too-often overlooked. So I consider it among my primary roles as an artist to hold a mirror up to society, revealing some of its faults, some of the places that we are failing to bring hope, peace, and justice to all, especially in times of such great economic hardship.

But holding up a mirror often leads to awkward situations. It's like pointing out when a person has a piece of something stuck in his or her teeth. Nobody likes having an ugly piece of something in his or her teeth, and they hate having it pointed out. It's embarrassing. But it's for this same reason that we are often thankful that a friend will point it out to us. We need to be made aware of the problem so that we can address it.

I've made a similar point about dishes: everybody wants a revolution; nobody wants to do the dishes. They just pile up higher and higher and we refuse to take care of it because "they're not all my dishes!" We fail to realize - or perhaps in our stubbornness refuse to recognize - that it doesn't matter whose dishes they are. What really matters is that there's a sink full of dirty dishes, they're piling over onto the counter and stove top. They are everywhere, they belong to everyone, and sooner or later, somebody's got to deal with them.

I believe this is also true of addressing real social maladies. We all want a revolution - or the romantic idea of it - but we don't want to engage in the difficult and sacrificial actions that reconcile us to each other, those things which are truly revolutionary. We are often too lazy, ambivalent, stubborn, or sometimes downright ignorant of the real problems. So we never address them and we don't make any progress.

My new album is a picture of the sink of our society, flowing over with dirty dishes. It's a mirror showing us the broccoli stuck in our teeth.

In Protest Song I invite my listeners to "boldly look the devil in the face and bring hope, peace, and love where there is violence and hate." In other words, we need to take a long hard look at the sink, put on our gloves, and get to scrubbing! We need to grab a tooth pick or brush and take that itty bitty bit of broccoli to town… except that it's more like we have a whole head of broccoli stuck in our teeth, some really monstrous problems to deal with! We need to be the changes in the world we want to see.

These songs are very important to me because they represent a time of great growth as a writer and artist. In the course of the past year and a half I've really discovered what I am called to as an artist. I've discovered that I have a special kind of perspective on the world, that I can see the world in a way that most people can't (or won't) and I've learned how to reflect this world to people in a more constructive way. This has been a difficult learning process. I've engaged many tough conversations with close friends, relatives, fans and supporters that have critiqued my new work and my overall approach in addressing the issues tackled in my songs, especially those on this album. I maintain that there's nothing wrong with pointing out the dirty sink or the piece of broccoli. But I've realized that simply pointing out the bad things in society doesn't get us too far.

Hopefully it opens peoples' eyes to injustice and increases their capacity for compassion… but does it give them a vision for a different kind of reality? does it inspire them to positive action? are people galvanized and mobilized for the greater good?

This is where I can really make an impact as an artist in this society; this is what I hope to work toward: to inspire and unite people under an alternative vision for the world and its future, a vision of peace, hope, and justice for all; then to empower them to move forward in solidarity.

This is what I hope to do. This is why Protest Songs Are Dead. I do hope you enjoy the album, always wearing your thinking cap, and beginning to dream up what such an alternative vision might look like!

Looking forward to dreaming with you and as always wishing youPeace,Gio

So I collect organic waste and trek it down to Union Square; so I dumpster dive for food; so I make my living playing guitar for donations on the NYC subways. These activities may be unconventional, off the beaten path. But they hardly make me a radical.As far as I can see, there are only two activities that are truly radical – revolutionary, even – in which I hope to excel: love and washing dishes. And make no mistake, you can hardly have one without the other!I’ve written recently about Brother Lawrence. The above notion is one that he understood better than most. But there are two other people who have had a special place of influence on my life, worldview, and praxis who I wish to recognize today – people who always loved well and did the dishes.Friday was not only Earth Day. It was also Good Friday, the day on which the Christian church recognizes the arrest, torture, and execution of Yeshua, a first century carpenter, teacher, and healer from Nazareth. Christians also believe him to be:Priest atoning for the sin of the world by his innocent blood shed on the Roman cross, thereby reconciling the world to God;King and Lord of all creation, heavens, and Earth;Prophet fulfilling the Hebraic scriptures, convicting the first century nation of Israel, foretelling his death and resurrection, and representing hope for all creation.If we trust the historicity of the Christian scriptures, we must recognize that he did indeed sacrifice himself. Regardless the actual implications of this sacrifice, it can hardly be denied that the man walked a path of radical love and responsibility.There is even a DIY punk group, Wingnut Dishwashers Union, who has written and recorded a song entitled “Jesus Does The Dishes.” It is likely that this band understands Yeshua’s life, teaching, and sacrifice better than many nominal Christians, especially in today's so-called first world. Was Yeshua a radical? Yes. But not for sake of being a radical. He was only a radical – a revolutionary, even – because he always sought to do God’s will – to love people, keep peace, seek justice, and impose the Kingdom of God on Earth. I’ve been a disciple of Yeshua since I was a young child and I’m ever inspired by his story, especially the sacrifice made on Good Friday. But as of 2011, Good Friday will ever carry a greater weight still, as my second great inspiration passed on Good Friday, along with her Lord, joining him in the heavenly realms.Angela Barrios was my grandmother. She was a part of my nuclear family most of my life, staying in an efficiency-like room in our house, keeping close watch over me and my sisters when we were young until my parents would come home from work. She also helped out by taking care of household chores like sweeping and mopping, doing laundry, and of course doing the dishes. More importantly, however, she prayed for us daily. I caught her once as I was sitting alone in a closet, praying and journaling myself. She prayed for each of my family members by name. She prayed for me. I couldn’t hold back the tears when I realized that she had prayed on my behalf every single day of my God-given life. She was so devout that I doubt I will meet another individual in this lifetime so committed to prayer, worship, and community.These are my inspirations, my role-models. If I seem radical to you, please know that I’m only following the footsteps of great men and women such as these that have gone before me. And though they are indeed great, they are also very ordinary. No super powers are needed to love and to do the dishes. Only a heart ready and willing. I only intend to pick up where my predecessors have left off, to live a life of radical love and discipleship in the most ordinary ways and all to the glory of God.

The daily paper amNewYork ran a special issue yesterday morning in honor of Earth Day. They featured a whole spread of articles about environmental –isms and issues, including a couple profiles of environmentally conscious New Yorkers sharing their “Earth-friendly strategies.”

“Andollo, a self-described Christian pacifist freegan vegetarian anarchist, never stops thinking of ways to live more lightly on beleaguered planet Earth.”

Still reeling from having read the article first thing in the morning, I received an e-mail from my sister exhorting me to “do something profoundly useful with [my] radicalism.”

Radicalism? This word made me uncomfortable.

Now I am well aware that some people regard me a radical. But it should be noted that the term radical is relative. For example, some conservatives in the US have no qualms calling Obama a radical liberal, whereas he would be considered a moderate conservative throughout Europe. Similarly, some consider me a radical because I dumpster dive or make my living as a busker. But I know that there are many folks far more radical than I. One of my freegan friends in NYC doesn’t use the subway. Ever. She walks everywhere she goes, sometimes from Harlem to downtown Manhattan. Many other freegans squat, refuse phones and computers, or volunteer to save buffalo in Montana for a few months each year. I can’t touch these people.

So the radical exists on a gradient where s/he is identified only in relation to others on the gradient. To some, I’m a radical; I just see myself as a regular Joe, doing what I can to make a positive impact. If that makes me a radical, it is more telling of our culture – an indictment that it is normative not only to have a negative or neutral impact at best, but to be ambivalent or complacent about one’s impact altogether – than it is of my own character and so-called activism.

Nevertheless I am indeed proud of the work I do to make my world and city peaceful, just, and otherwise better. So what was it about this word – radicalism – that so irked me? If not the root, it must be the –ism on the end.

Now I don’t usually shun the suffix. I’ve found that it can be very helpful in describing my political philosophy, acknowledging my subscription to anarchism. And I certainly take no offense to environmentalism – indeed I am proud to be positively associated with such, even in a citywide publication like amNY. So what was the problem?

Simply: -isms denote a belief system or structure. The problem with the word radicalism is that it boils down a conscientious lifestyle to a philosophy not about peace, justice, and progress, but about some kind of radical ideal. As though to be radical is an existential pinnacle to be reached, an end in itself.

I, for one, have no interest in this notion. I’m just an ordinary guy listening to his conscience. I don’t hope to be a radical, I only strive to be a decent human being. In this endeavor I may appear a radical in comparison to others, perhaps. But if I’m a radical, then I’m only a very ordinary one! I’m not a hero, I don’t have super powers, and I’m hardly up to anything that your average person couldn’t do, should s/he feel so compelled.

I suppose the “ordinary radical” conjunction, so closely associated with Shane Claiborne’s Simple Waycommunity in Philadelphia, is finally beginning to make sense to me – living a life of radical love and existential responsibility is really quite ordinary!